


The Flirt

by charab



Series: Dysfunctional Affairs [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Demons, Humans, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charab/pseuds/charab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An appointment gone awry made room for a potential arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flirt

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Enjoy the snippet.

The city was silent, save for the passing scritch of rodents and larger beings that carried on their nocturnal activities. The alleys, the streets and the highways stretched in lazy arcs, curves and straight lines across the scenery of tall buildings scraping against the night sky, the flashes of flickering street lights or vehicles belonging to the servants and protectors of citizens giving light to the ones who were still out after the hour of midnight. The buildings, buzzing with life during the day, now lay in silent slumber next to each other, like giant pieces of chess, forgotten into the darkness that enveloped them under the moonlight. The inhabitants, the bustling, flourishing people that many other cities envied and admired, slept in their homes and apartments, not minding the worries of the coming day or the ghosts of their pasts during the few hours that they had all for themselves inside the four walls that had become their main territory after the ancient times of their ancestors.  
  
One apartment, a two-room studio located on the seventh floor of a red-painted building at the Leaf Avenue, wasn't different from the rows of the many same ones in the same building, in the same block, the same neighborhood, nor was its residence any way different than the fellow citizens living next to him. His furniture wasn't any finer or lesser quality than his neighbors had, his fridge wasn't empty nor was it filled with home cooked meals, or lacking alcohol; the way the moonlight lit the rooms with no curtains wasn't any different from the custom that many had in their city.  
  
However, as he slept, chopped brown hair spilled on his white pillow and his resting body cocooned under the warmth of his white duvet, the lone man owning the apartment did not hear the peculiar pop of displaced air in his living room, nor the silent press of naked heels against his fluffy carpet. He did not register the silent footsteps carrying to his bedroom, the shift of lean legs as the owner of the said legs stopped to observe the man currently curled on his mattress. The sleeping man didn't see the dark, slanted eyes, calculating and tempting in equal measure, to size up what they saw presented to them, nor did the prey detect the sharp smile that showed a flash of teeth of the predator who watched him from the shadows, the smirk stretching as wide as the horizontal scar cutting across high cheekbones and a straight nose on the tan face. The sleeping man turned to sleep on his back, the rising hum of appreciation of the other passing unheard by his ears. The scent of arousal that twirled around his nose went undetected before he inhaled, slowly, and fell under the spell the silent visitor had been carefully casting on its target.  
  
“Now then,” murmured the peculiar guest, a dark-haired man who was dressed in a black smoking jacket with rolled sleeves. He eyed the sleeping other, the bronze-colored skin of his naked legs reflecting pale amber in the moonlight. “I do believe we have an appointment, mr. Yamato.” A snap of fingers later, a flat little device materialized in the dark-skinned palm, its glowing screen making the dark eyes flicker with icy blue and white for a second when they perused through the information before the nimble fingers tapped the device shut before flicking it back into hammerspace, leaving only a trace of fading smoke in its place. Then, the smiling face turned back to the sleeping man in sight, and the lean, naked legs strode silently towards the bed while the words spoken with a voice that had left many on the brink of despair fell from the pair of full lips. “Mr. Yamato. Leaf Avenue 35 A56, 55789 Konohagakure. Senior head of department in Konoha Security Intelligence.” The legs stopped by the edge of the bed, and after a moment of silence, the lean, well-sculpted body of the scantily dressed man leaned on the mattress and began to crawl over the slumbering figure. “Dark eyes the shape of almonds. Likes gardening. Goes to an onsen once a month.” The smile on the attractive face broke into a wide grin, and the dark eyes peered down at the sleeping man's slack face. “Single after breaking up a long-term relationship.” The broad shoulders flexed as the man hovering above his target lowered himself to almost brush his lips against the other pair, to inhale the scent of human skin and the wisps of accumulated sexual frustration that had brought an alert to their system. “Four weeks already? My, my, no wonder they sent me over.” The scarred nose traveled down and then back up the neck it found, nuzzling behind the ear that twitched as a seductive, husky huff of laughter brushed against it. “They said you preferred dirty words from your partners, mr. Yamato. Would that be correct? Should I tease you tonight, tell you all the things I am aching to do to you? To tell you how I plan to lick you, swallow you down like no one else ever has, to fuck you the way you never admit to love.” To emphasize the point, the tan hips began to rub against the gradually forming bulge that the demonically smirking man could feel under the thick duvet.  
  
“Maa.” The drawled word, completely void of warmth or tact, was cutting enough to almost shatter the illusions he had put up and made the tan man blink through his carefully constructed haze. “Why do I see your ass in this bedroom, _Umino_?”  
  
A groan that had no trace of arousal left arose from the tan throat, and the dark eyes, previously leaking pure desire all over the slumbering man they were observing, were now narrow and hard as flints when they turned to locate the prick whose presence was more than familiar to the dark-haired incubus who felt his mood take a turn into a very different direction from where it had been heading. “I should be asking you the same question, _Hatake_.” In the shadows, an outline of a pale-skinned, silver-haired man dressed in a black button-up and smart dress pants sans shoes and socks was visible to those who knew where to watch and were able to spot their kind, although given that he had been interrupted while on the job made Iruka briefly wish that he could just ignore the bastard and continue where he had left off. His wilting erection was readily agreeing with him.  
  
But no, they were already aware of each other, which made it imperative to handle the matter at hand. Namely why in the seven hells was Hatake Kakashi, the high-grade incubus of the supervising squad, and thus the official pain in the ass for almost every member in their desire delivery division, was standing in _Iruka's_ client's bedroom and watching _his_ tan ass like it had committed a capital crime against the other lust demon's annoying existence, despite the fact that the pest himself was the one who came uninvited into the scene – not to mention that the appearance of the tardy titface occurred _ten minutes_ past the scheduled appointment.  
  
As far as the professional lust control patrols were considered, interrupting an incubus or a succubus on delivery was an act equivalent of flipping off to higher grade nightmares at Morino's department: a very stupid thing to do.  
  
Repressing a growl of aggression that he felt rumbling in his throat, Iruka pushed back up from the sleeping client who had not waken up to the quick change of mood, and then rose up from the bed to stalk standing directly in front of the other demon. A quirk of a silvery eyebrow was all he needed to open his mouth, and the words followed in an angry hiss. “Care to kindly explain why you made it your business to interrupt my officially scheduled appointment with the client who's _long overdue_ his last fantasies?” While his voice was barely held leveled, the dark eyes were filled to the brim with intents that had sent many armies into hysterical chaos and had made the bravest generals and noblest royals lose their sleep in the ancient times.  
  
“Maa,” Hatake drawled with a dry tone that was rasping enough to set Iruka's sharp teeth on edge, “this is my appointment you're crashing, Umino.”  
  
In that sense, the stunned silence that fell on Iruka's side was understandable, because as far as the said professionals of carnal needs were considered, plucking someone else's client was the same as declaring war between realms. The dark eyes blinked once, then twice, and then a snap of quick fingers brought up the tiny flat device for them to stare at while an uneasy silence settled between the two men standing a few feet away from their sleeping topic of discussion. Then, after a moment of thumbing through the flashing posts of schedules and notes in margins, a scowl of rising annoyance overtook the tan face, and the dark eyes rose to squint challengingly at the mismatched ones. “Don't screw with me, Hatake. I don't see your insignia on the list.”  
  
“I didn't take you for an illiterate, Umino,” drawled the pale-assed nuisance once more, and Iruka spent a moment contemplating if he could arrange himself a chance to put the other's head through the bedroom wall, since the benefits that came from maiming a certified asshole were surely outweighing the consequences of destroying the property of mortals.  
  
Unsurprisingly, the little device was snatched from his hands – which, in way, made it just way more tempting for him to slap the bastard around a bit, but he was a good little incubus on a decent payroll in a nice squad and therefore settled for glaring holes into the silver-haired head of his current tormenter and division supervisor. However, he had had a good mood going, and as he spied the uncomfortable confusion dawn on the frowning face of the higher grade incubus, the dark-haired demon tried to remember when was the last time he had taken Karma out to drinks.  
  
“What in the...hold on,” Hatake hissed with a flash of a fang and in a snap held his own, a few inches bigger device in his other hand, the gray and the red eyes peering first one screen and then the other. After a second that had stretched into what felt like a very awkward hour, the thin lips turned into an aggravated scowl. “Let me revise that, Umino. It seems that you're not at fault here.”  
  
“That's good to hear, because I would have hated to prove the obvious wrong,” Iruka quipped, but the answering, disciplinary silence that he felt rolling off from the other's aura convinced him to hold his talented tongue from spitting any more insults.  
  
As it was, the superior operator didn't need eye contact to see how the rest of Umino's face wasn't on the same page with his mouth. “Unless you've been given the wrong location, we have a problem.”  
  
In Iruka's opinion, his forming migraine adding to his gnawing sexual frustration made it fairly easy to come to that conclusion. “How low grade do you still think I am in this? I checked it thrice as we all do, Hatake, there's no way I could have gotten it wrong. And exactly what the fuck is the problem that we're having, except me being here forced to endure your charming company and not there banging mr. Yamato's brains out before dawn like I should be?”  
  
The drawl of the other's voice indicated that he didn't really care about listening to Iruka's complaints of getting cockblocked at that time of night. “He isn't mr. Yamato, Umino. It says mr. _Tenzou_ in my list.”  
  
“Then your file says wrong.” Quickly, the little device switched the user once more, the dark eyes searching out the file that had been opened, the dark-skinned demon paying no mind to the level stare he knew the other was giving him. “Look here. _Mr. Yamato, Leaf Avenue 35 A_ _56,_ _55789 Konohagakure. Senior head of department in Konoha Security Intelligence_ -”  
  
“- _Dark eyes_ _the shape of almonds_ _. Likes gardening. Goes to an onsen once a month. Single after ending a long-term relationship_. That's mr. Tenzou,” ended the low bass of the pale demon who still continued to stare at the lower-grade subordinate as if the bronze-skinned male had grown a second phallus without filling the proper forms first.  
  
The following silence that fell between the pair was heavy and loaded, accompanied with the light snores that now came from the bed where there lay a man, completely unaware of the two demons, best professionals in their respective ranks, that found themselves in a situation that was starting to appear like a massive screw-up accomplished by their administrative operators.  
  
“...Damn the humans and their nicknames. Fucks the system every time,” Iruka heard himself mutter, and wasn't surprised to hear an agreeing grunt coming from the other. “I'll have a word with the guys manning the desk after tonight, and let the others know that the files need to be redone before next night shift.” It was not going to be pretty, but when compared to thousands of years of bloodshed over petty little quarrels among their ranks, tackling a mountain of paperwork was a minor inconvenience.  
  
The superior demon gave a pause, after which the silver-haired head nodded. “Sounds reasonable, Umino.” Then, as fragile as the truce between them was, it broke neatly in half by the look in the mismatched eyes that glared at the sun-kissed temple. ”However, you're still in my way.”  
  
Iruka had always been warned about his temper, and apparently it was time that the albino bastard got to see why. “Look, why don't you go suck off someone so that I wouldn't have to listen to this while there's a _client_ in this room waiting to happily assist me with reaching my nightly quota? Would that be too much to ask?”  
  
“I would be gladly doing that, Umino, but unfortunately there's you standing between me and the cock I should be sucking,” came the low growl from the other man, as if the pale demon's hackles were slowly rising at the prospect of facing an obstacle that may get messily removed should things escalate to that point. “It's getting into the hours of dawn, and you know what happens to your monthly bonus if you don't make it to your other appointments for the night.”  
  
“According to directive A679 b2 and paragraph 54, any desire delivery division member who faces unexpected hardships during the delivery shall not be disciplined for failing to serve all of their designated targets due to the turn of events which, I remind you, they are not accountable for. So don't give me that crap, I have worked in the administration long enough to know how the system works. Besides, I was here first, whereas _you_ were ten solid minutes late, o' high grade of thousand lays,” rumbled the brunet's voice from his throat, the sharp tongue flicking out to moisten his lips that peeled up to present the fine set of fangs. “In other words, that's _my_ lay over there, so I would suggest that you back off and find some other poor ass to torment.”  
  
The snarl of all teeth and murder fell from the other's lips. “You should know your place.”  
  
The flash of rising heat in the dark eyes was nearly hot enough to set the tapestry around them on fire, the air around the glaring demons getting heady with clashing intents of lust, control, power and defiance with each word murmured by the velvety voice of the full-lipped mouth. “My place is right here, Hatake, and I won't move an inch anywhere else before I make mr. Yamato howl the way that makes him blush at his breakfast when he remembers the wet dream he had.” Iruka was seething from his dark-haired head to his long-nailed toes, his whole being shaking with fury infused with carnal lust, his temper rising at the same speed as his cock hardened when facing the steel-hard gaze of the superior demon, his supervisor, his nemesis, the very reason he liked it rough with all the clients with fair hair and skin.  
  
As the heated dark brown met the steely gray and fiery red, the time stopped and held.  
  
Then, a doorbell rang.  
  
They didn't care if the picture that the mortals were so keen on maintaining about the scary and hostile demons suffered a rather large crack as it took them both a considerate amount of focus not to let their presence pop in plain view when the sudden sound of jingling bells startled them worse than their client who jumped up in his bed with a foul curse leaving him before he caught his bearings, stiffened in what seemed like a fluttering seizure of rising hope and then stumbled out of the bedroom. As it was, the two incubi, pale and tan frozen on their spots, stared at the man stumble past them without him giving a flying fuck to his surroundings, namely the thick smog of maiming intent mixed with dark desires that nearly reeked from every corner of his bedroom and curled around his legs on his way to answer the apartment door.  
  
As the clicks and clacks of unbolting locks and then the creak of an opening door carried to the bedroom, the two demons, both still caught in the turn of events, finally got a hang of their present situation. Both the dark brown and the gray and red eyes exchanged looks that were ill-suited for the illustrated nightmares of humankind when they both heard the shushed voices of their client and the mysterious person who had come by at such a strange hour.  
  
“Who the fuck is that?” Iruka hissed, his curiosity having forcibly mangled his rising body heat back into normal levels.  
  
“I think it is an another human being,” Kakashi drawled, as a way of answering a question by giving the least amount of input it could and therefore providing him with the most entertaining look of barely reigned indignation crossing the middle-grade's scarred face.  
  
In a way of answering to that flippant comment, Iruka discreetly flipped a finger at the other demon and then proceeded to slink into the living room where it would be more beneficial to eavesdrop on what his client was doing when the man really should have been introducing himself to misters _Harder_ and _Faster_ in the la-la-land of heavy loving. Not that he actually needed to sneak, given that he was invisible to the naked human eye when he chose to, but it takes one run-in with a renegade Catholic priest to learn that it never played for the benefit of their kind to lower one's guard completely around humans. Considering that the older incubus who was currently breathing on his neck like a very intrusive shadow was masking his presence in very similar manner to Iruka, it looked like it wasn't only him that had learned it the hard way. That or the nit-picking nuisance was just blatantly ignoring his measly existence in favor of hearing the discussion that had moved into the living room, as it seemed that the late-night visitor had been granted the permission to enter.  
  
However, as the mismatched eyes saw and heard the person who was explaining something rather animatedly to their client, Kakashi let out a slow whistle that made involuntarily shivers travel down Iruka's spine. “No shit.”  
  
“What?” Iruka asked more out of a need to reel his mind back from sensing the other's body heat through his flimsy clothing than an actual wish to know, and settled for staring at the young woman whose purple hair was pulled in high pigtails and who was dressed in a reasonably odd ensemble of a trench coat, shorts and a mesh shirt, considering that the season was well into November in Konoha. After a beat, a slender, dark eyebrow rose wonderingly on the honey-toned forehead. “Strange. Mr. Yamato had no female preferences listed in our files. You know her?”  
  
“Anko Mitarashi. Regular. Second district. Our files don't mention anything about her dating. Curious,” Kakashi spoke, voice low and husky, and Iruka almost got a tic on his face for forcing his focus to stay on the lines _You promised me_ , _How could you_ , _I_ _love_ _you_ , _I miss you_ , _Stupid little darling_ and _I'm sorry_ that the two humans were spouting like they were starring a B-grade romance flick rather than the fact that his self-proclaimed slave-driver's voice did _things_ to his libido. “I actually just visited her place.”  
  
Amidst watching the fascinating display of how well a dysfunctional love affair can both mend and annihilate itself in so short intervals during the fluctuating argument that occurred before their eyes, Iruka gave a pause at the high-grade's words, and as he slowly turned to look at the older demon who by the looks of it had understood the nature of that particular slip, there was no way he could keep his sharp mind from gaining the satisfaction his cock had been denied. “Really? I wonder what that says about _you_ if this is the result from it, Hatake.”  
  
“Your crude sense of humor is always a delight to experience, Umino – yet in the end, it starts to look like I was the one who actually got some sex out of this,” the pale-skinned demon lightly noted, and did nothing to hide the smugness of his smirk as the look in the dark brown eyes lost the humor and gained several murderous levels. “Speaking of which, I think our couple is on cue to having some angry sex of their own.”  
  
“Angry se-?” Oh, that cue. Surely there was a regulation on how much an innocent incubus should see when it came to human copulating rituals.  
  
“....Maa,” said the low voice that sent a jolt through the younger demon's shell-shocked system when they both witnessed what was happening on mr. Yamato's couch, “it seems that your night is up, Umino.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Iruka could only blame the scene he was staring at to lack any heat in his response. That was ridiculous; a mouth that little couldn't possibly _oh it did_.  
  
“There's only two hours left of the high flow, so unless you plan to leave some of your clients half-way hanging tonight, which I strongly advise you not to, then you'll have time for, say, a couple of good ones and a single rushed quickie,” Kakashi continued, his darkening tone turning the spilling words into a cocktail of sin and sugar that sent a buzz into Iruka's own tail underneath his smoking jacket. The silver-haired demon paid a brief moment of attention to the loud sound of a coffee table being tipped over before turning it back to the light pants he could hear coming from the tan incubus who stood almost transfixed right where he had wanted him a good century ago. Swallowing a victorious cackle, the high-grade dipped his head close enough to breath in the other's scent, it sending a shudder of excitement traveling all over the superior incubuses body and tainted his next words with schemes waiting to be sprung into action. “However, that hardly makes your record look any better, seeing that even though you weren't _completely_ at fault for failing this delivery, your performance on this case wasn't so convincing.”  
  
_That_ thorn added to an insult was enough to pull Iruka's surviving brain cells back into business and before he knew it, his body had turned around to face the other demon, every hair on his body ready and willing to serve some badly deserved justice. “Now _look here_ you insolent prick, just who -”  
  
_Oh_.  
  
The look in the mismatched eyes was smug, yet Iruka wasn't completely sure if the imagined softness in that smirk came from now knowing that the man's lips weren't as dry as the bastard himself was, or from seeing the swirls of undertones that now became known in the older demon's aura and thus made the gaze of the mismatched eyes feel quite a bit heavier than two minutes ago.  
  
_**Oh.**_  
  
From the very first moment they had met, they had been able to work together as smoothly as a pair of hair-triggered monkey sprites running with scissors. Iruka had always hated the self-satisfied smirk on that pale face, and Kakashi had always hated the frigid looks he caught given him by the dark brown eyes. They hated each other's guts, and they hated the provokative way they addressed one another. Iruka hated Kakashi's lazy ass as much as the other's snarky attitude gave rash to the silver-haired demon. Kakashi hated the day when his irritable infatuation had gained limits that made him take calculated risks with their delivery records and Iruka hated himself a little for not noticing sooner how he had been played, and then for nodding a bit too eagerly at the heated look in the gray and red eyes that shoved his pent-up frustration for a hundred years of verbal foreplay over the breaking edge of his self-control as mr. Yamato's living room vanished from around them.  
  
Although the moment when Iruka made sure that the other wasn't able to spoil the mood by using his stupid mouth to speak he was almost sure that the other demon loved him for it.


End file.
